


Invasion of the Hubby Snatchers

by Rii



Category: The Thrilling Adventure Hour
Genre: Crossover, Gen, well kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 10:40:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1466347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rii/pseuds/Rii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sadie Doyle comes home one day to find that her husband is not at all himself!  Well, who else was going to notice a Jupiter Spy in New York?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Invasion of the Hubby Snatchers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mansion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mansion/gifts).



> All I can say is that I agree with everyone else. Jib Janeen is SO fun to write.  
> I wanted to write something fairly episode-length, but not in script form. So, here you go.

Sadie Doyle departed her usual taxi with the grace and aplomb of a human being who’d had a few drinks perhaps an hour or so before - which was to say, she was getting sober, and that meant she was getting wobbly.  The comforting buzz of the Bloody Mary or three that she had at Donna Henderson’s was evaporating more quickly than spilled 100-proof vodka on a warm day, and that simply would not do.  But Sadie Doyle was a lady, and she composed herself, and managed to stumble into the Plaza’s elevator without so much as rolling a heel.  Her darling Frank and a full glass of gin were doubtlessly waiting for her, if she would only have the patience for it.

As she entered her penthouse suite, she discovered Frank already rummaging through one of their many liquor cabinets - in this case, one that had once been a rolltop desk, which had converted into a darling little case for their cordial collection.  “Frank, darling!  I’ve returned!” she called.  

Frank stopped what he was doing, and a strange little smile twitched his mustache.  “Ohh… hey there, uh, woman I am apparently familiar with!”

Oh, typical Frank.  She’d only left him alone for a few hours, but he’d already drunk himself Silly, which was just one step above his usual Witty.  “And I am almost sober!” she continued.

“...good for you!” Frank replied.

...well, that didn’t seem right.  “No, Frank!  No, it is not good at all,” Sadie said.

“It isn’t?” Frank said.

“If I am nearly sober, Frank, then it is your duty as my husband to heal my affliction with a drink,” Sadie said.  “After which I will reward you with your own drink, and you shall reward me for rewarding you, and so on and so forth until we are in happily inebriated equilibrium.”  It was not so much a vicious cycle as a delicious one, in Sadie’s opinion.

Frank, however, responded with a confused bristle of the mustache, much like those little dogs that Sadie saw in the hotel every so often.  “Ohh… right! Yes, that is me, totally your husband, Frankie Doyle.”

“Oh Frank,” Sadie said, “have you had so much to drink that you forgot your name again?”

“...yes, yes, that is absolutely what is going on with me right now.  Totally,” Frank replied.  “Uhh… speaking of forgetting things, um… where, exactly, do we keep our secrets, again?”  His voice became strangely squeaky and unsure - not at all like the bold, loud, confident Frank that she loved so very much.

She felt so sorry for him.  Her poor dear must have been so very confused, drunk to the point where he couldn’t even tell where they kept their liquor.  The only thing worse than drinking alone was not knowing where your next drink was coming from.  Well, that and sobriety.

“Are you referring to that lovely little bottle in that liquor cabinet you are rifling through at this very moment?” Sadie said, sweetly.

“Is that a secret?” Frank said.

“It’s the name of the liqueur, Frank dear,” Sadie replied.  “Best Kept Secret.  It says so right there on the bottle in tiny, adorable little letters.”

“Ohh…  Of course!  Totally knew that.”  Frank went back to his rummaging, bottles clinking merrily as he searched.  “Man, you are, like, the easiest person to get secrets from.  Not gonna lie.”

“Well, Frank, you know I would never hesitate to point you in the direction of a drink.”

“Yes.  That is totally what I know you for, uh…”  He looked up from the cabinet.  “...wife-person.”

Sadie smiled, but it was mostly for show.  She was sobering up by the second.  “...speaking of drinks, Frank, would you be a dear and pour me one while you’re in there?” she said.

“Suuure!  Totally.  Like, least I can do for, y’know, all your secrets.”  Frank emerged from the cabinet with the bottle of Best Kept Secret in his hand, and went off into another room in the suite.

Sadie took the time to put her purse down on a chair, and the empty little flasks within made sad, hollow noises.  She would refill them once she was good and drunk again and much more in the mood for tending to needy little sad things.

“Okay!  So… here you go, one drink, just for you, because you gave up your secrets, just for me, and totally not for the glory of Jupiter or anything.”  Frank appeared with a tall glass of clear liquid, and Sadie’s heart swelled with love for him, just a little more than it usually did when she laid eyes upon him.  Mostly because of the liquor he was carrying.  Which was about normal for her.

“Oh, Frank, you’re such a dear.”  Sadie took the glass from him.  “To us?”

Several seconds passed without a clink, despite the full bottle of Best Kept Secret in Frank’s hand.

“Frank?  Aren’t you going to return my toast?” Sadie said.

“...totally, babe, I am just all about returning toasts.”

Sadie arched an eyebrow.  This was more than a typical tootling, it seemed.  The only thing that kept Frank from a toast was if he were blissfully passed out, and he clearly wasn’t, here.

“Then let us share a toast,” Sadie said, and lifted her glass.  “To us.”

“Yeah, to us, and stuff,” Frank said.  She touched glass to bottle, and an unsatisfying, dull sound resulted, rather than their usual, clear chime of affection.

Sadie concluded that she was probably just sober, and that her unsettled feeling about Frank would settle once she righted herself.

However, one glug into the glass, she did the impossible: she spit out her drink.

“Franklin Delano Knickerhouse Doyle!” she cried.  “There is no alcohol in this glass!”

“There isn’t?” Frank said.

“No, Frank, there isn’t!  This is, this is…”  Sadie gasped.  “This is water!”

What she expected was for him to take a drink himself, and find that it was indeed water and not gin or vodka or gin as she had expected.  And from there they would likely have to go on some sort of adventure, which was always exciting, at least for her.  It wouldn’t be the first time, anyways.

Instead, Frank looked at her like she had asked him for a mug of beer.  “Uh, yeah!  You asked for a drink,” he said.  “Isn’t that what you humans drink, like, all the time?  Water?  It’s, like, all over the place here.”

It was then that Sadie decided that there was something more wrong with Frank than inebriation, or even lack thereof.  

This was, quite simply, not her Frank.

Of course, she’d had experience with these types before.  Changelings were child’s play, literally fairy stuff.  All she needed was a silver mirror and a bit of salt and maybe some holy water, and she’d be on her way to finding out where her darling Frank had gotten himself kidnapped to.

After an actual drink of course.

“Why, of course, Frank, I should have specified.  A drink of gin, dear.  I’ll just help myself.”  She set down the cup of ghastly, bland water, and had a gin and tonic mixed for herself in a matter of moments from the nearest bar.  “Now, where were we?”

“Um… let’s see!  Are there any other secrets that we keep around the house that I’m unaware of for some reason?” the Man That Was Not Frank said.

“Why… I’m sure we have some other secrets around here…” Sadie said.  “Just a moment, darling.”  She tipped the glass back and three glugs later she was feeling much sharper and well-marinated.  “Ah, there we go.”  She immediately began making another for herself.  “Now, where were we?”

“All and any secrets or… secret passwords, or… assets and stuff?” Not-Frank said.  “I mean, like, anything useful, y’know.”

“Oh, Frank, everything that you know I know.  There are no secrets between us,” Sadie said, coyly.

The Man That Was Not Frank waggled his eyebrows in a decidedly un-Frank-ish way, and he smirked a slimy smirk.  “Really?”

“Unless… you’re keeping secrets from me, Frankensteen,” Sadie said.

“What?  No.  What?!  No!  No way,” Not-Frank said.  “I, Frankensteen Doyle, would never keep secrets from my wife, uh…”

“Sadie,” she said helpfully.

“Sadie!  Yes, Sadie, who I love so much and would totally never keep secrets from.”  He tapped his foot on the ground in thought.  “Say… if you’re my wife and all, that means you’re, like… my exclusive, totally-consensual reproductive mate or something?”

“Oh, Frank, you haven’t called me that in almost a week!” Sadie said, making her voice light and fluttery and stupid.  “I am your mate, you darling beastly man, just as you are mine.”

“Okay, just clarifying, y’know, the situation here,” Not-Frank said.  “I mean, even though it’s totally inferior to other means of reproduction, like, say, parasitizing other life forms.  I mean… total no-brainer there.”

“Ooh, parasitizing!  That sounds exciting!” Sadie said.  “Tell me more, Frankensteen.”

“What, you, like, want me to go into detail or something?” Not-Frank said.

“Yes, tell me all the details.”  

“...sure!  Because there are no secrets that I, Frankensteen Doyle, would ever keep from my wife, ever, because we’re, like, mates and stuff,” Not-Frank said.

Sadie giggled.  “I’ll go get us something appropriate to drink from the bedroom,” she said.  “I think I have one of those funny little bottles with the worm inside.  Don’t know why I thought of it just now.”

“Yup!  Go get a beverage or whatever.”  Not-Frank was quiet for a bit as Sadie went into the bedroom.  “So, since we’re, like, mates and all, does that mean you’d be totally cool with, say… gestating one of my offspring for a while?” he continued, still in the living room.  “Totally a hypothetical, by the way.”

“I’m sorry, Frank, I can’t hear you!” Sadie called.  “I’m still looking for that drink!”

Of course, that was a lie.  Well, partially.  Sadie was looking for a drink.  But, contrary to practically every law in the cosmos, it was not a drink to be drunk.  For one, it was wine - ugh.  For two, it was sacred wine, a mix of holy water and Dionysus Grapes and barely left to ferment.  She and Frank kept a bottle in the bedside liquor cabinet in case of a possession.  It never hurt to be prepared.

“No biggie, just, y’know, bringin’ it up,” Not-Frank said.  “Totally a thing that earth mates do.  Discussing offspring.”

“Oh, I couldn’t agree more.”  The sacred wine in hand, Sadie reached back into one of the rare, non-liquor filled drawers of the nightstand-bar, for the rest of the emergency kit - rope, handcuffs, the whip…

...oh, her mistake, that was a just-for-fun drawer.  The anti-fairy tools were in the other nightstand-bar.  Though she suspected the rope might come in handy.

She exited the bedroom with the sacred wine cheerily held up in her hand.  “Here we are, Frankensteen.  Now, do tell me about that thing we were just talking about.”

“About you gestating a Jupiter-kid for me because we’re mates and all and you totally trust me?” Not-Frank said.  He paused, almost flinching, and laughed.  “I mean, whaaat?”

“You’re in such a romantic mood today, Frank,” Sadie said, reaching for one of the champagne glasses.

“I know, right?” Not-Frank said.  “Totally romantic.  And convincing.”

“Let’s us drink this here beverage and talk more,” Sadie said.  “As we are wont to do.”

“Sure!  Totally.  Expression of trust and all that,” Not-Frank said.  “And we totally kiss afterwards, right?”

“Frank!  Why, of course!”  Sadie said.  “Whyever did you think otherwise?”

“...did I say that?”

“Say what?”

“That I knew otherwise?  Because I totally knew that,” Not-Frank said.  “Totally.”

Sadie smiled a smile like a curl of lemon zest.  “Then, shall we?”

“Sure.  Drinking the drink, that my beloved wife Sammy gave me.”

There wasn’t even enough alcohol in the wine to justify drinking it, so Sadie didn’t bother sipping, just miming the familiar action.

However, the Man That Was Not Frank downed it without so much as a proper glug, and he smacked his lips a few times afterward.

“What is that?  Fruity.  Little tang at the end, there,” he said, and afterwards passed out on the floor.

Yes, the rope did come in handy.

When Not-Frank came to, he was thoroughly tied up in what Sadie knew was a most uncomfortable position.  She had a martini in her hand when his eyelids fluttered open; the glass was poised and shining like a queen’s sceptre, and she had her eyes judgmentally turned downward at him.

“Ugh… what was that?” Not-Frank said, smacking his lips again, and spitting.  “Bad aftertaste.”

“Sacred wine,” Sadie replied.  “I figured it would have some effect on you.”

“Wine?”  Not-Frank blinked a few times.  “Wait.  Give me a second.  I’ve heard of this stuff.”

“An alcoholic beverage made from grapes and water,” Sadie said.  “And an utter excuse of a drink, if you ask me.”

“Wait - grapes?” Not-Frank said.  He looked up with an expression of bewilderment and fear.  “You don’t mean, like, red grapes, right?  Because green grapes, totally no problem, but red?  Ugh.  Do not.  Get.  Me.  Started.”

“I suppose so, given it was red wine,” Sadie replied.

The Man That Was Not Frank narrowed his eyes.  “You are one crafty lady, Sammy Doyle.  Knowing the one weakness of a Jupiter Spy.”

“It’s Sadie,” she corrected.  “And… Jupiter Spy?”

“Uh, yeah,” Not-Frank replied.  “Y’know, masters of espionage, super-talented, totally handsome, you get the idea.”

“I’ve never heard of a Jupiter Spy,” Sadie said.  “I thought you were a fairy.”

“Ha!  A fairy?  Puh-lease,” the Jupiter Spy said.  “Those guys?  Got nothin’ on us.”  He laughed again.  “Fairies.  More like… inferior… Venusian… Not-Spies.”

“Then why are you impersonating my darling Frank?” Sadie said.  “I must admit, you had me a bit fooled when I was still sober.  But you sound nothing like him.”

“Uh, first of all, I sound exactly like him.  I am a perfect copy,” the Jupiter Spy said.  “Y’know, since I’m a shapeshifter, and all.”

“Trust me, dear, I know what my husband sounds like, and you come nowhere close,” Sadie said.

“Hmph.  Well, since you knew my weakness and all, I guess I can believe you bein’ able to tell the difference,” the Jupiter Spy said.  “Doesn’t usually happen, see.”

“Mhm,” Sadie said, and took a ship of her martini, making her expression more severe.  “Then, why my Frank?”

“I dunno, just seemed like a good place to be!” the Jupiter Spy replied.  “Y’know, heard a lot about these Boyle people, read some human Society Pages - totally not as cool as Jupiter’s Society Pages, by the way - and figured you guys must have some really neat secrets.”

“I see,” Sadie replied.  “And what have you done with my husband?”

“Eh, put him somewhere,” the Jupiter Spy replied.

“Somewhere,” Sadie said.

“Yeah.  Y’know, froze him up, put him in space ‘til I was done with my Spy Business down here,” the Jupiter Spy said.  “Like, don’t worry or nothing, ‘cos, like, it’s not like I lost him or anything.”  He laughed a few times, though a bit nervously.

Sadie put down her martini glass, and reached for the bottle of sacred wine.  “You are going to tell me where my husband is, Mister Spy, or I shall pour this entire bottle upon you,” she said. “And I shall not view it as a waste of good liquor.”

“Yow, okay, okay!”  Though he was tied up with his arms behind his back, he scrambled as far away from her as possible.  “I’ll take you to my ship!  And once you get your dumb husband back, you are gonna let me go, back to my home planet, which is Jupiter, and away from any sort of red grapes.  Liquid or otherwise.  Deal?”

Sadie grabbed her purse - which she had since restocked with full flasks - and added the bottle of sacred wine to it.  “I shall not tolerate any shenanigans, Mister Jupiter Spy,” she said.

“Trust me, babe.  Straight story from now on.  Nothing but that,” the Spy replied.

A moment later they were transported onto some sort of futuristic living space, garishly decorated in vinyl purples and whites.  Not-Frank the Spy seemed to have shape-shifted in the process of the teleportation into something vaguely human-like and definitely purple, but still considerably tied up with rope.  Sadie smirked in private admiration - it had been a long time, but her shibari technique was hardly rusty.

“Okay, Sally, just, gimme a moment, and I’ll get your husband or whatever unfrozen and we’ll be all set,” the Jupiter Spy said.

“You had better,” Sadie replied, and watched him shuffle about the room vaguely purposefully.  She had reached for a flask to top herself off when the Spy groaned.

“You have got to be kidding me!” he shouted.  “Outsmarted?  Twice?  In one day?  Ugh.  This is not my week.”

“Is there something wrong?” Sadie said.

He shuffled back into her sight.  “Okay, like, no fault of my own here, but, your husband’s missing.”

Sadie reached for the wine bottle.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, I’m being, like, totally honest here!” he said, backing off.  “I had him, like, right over there, y’know, hangin’ out, bein’ frozen, and he wasn’t going anywhere.”

“There’ll be no more frozen folks from you, from now on, Jib Janeen.”  A voice so manly that it practically had its own jawline filled the room, and both Sadie and the Spy turned to see him.

The man was broad in the shoulders, dressed in tanned mega-deerskin, and even when he scowled he had the most charming dimples.  There was only one man like him in the universe.

“Heyyy!  Cactoid Jim!  Buddy!”  The Spy’s body seemed to shrink.  “Uh… how did you get in here?”

“It was a simple matter of triangulation and some good old-fashioned legwork,” Cactoid Jim replied.  “I just borrowed some data collected by Marshall Nevada’s Marshall Station’s database and was able to track down this here ship’s radar signature by averaging out the signals.”

“...uh, neat!” the Spy replied.

“It is pretty neat,” Cactoid Jim replied, grinning.  “Now, seein’ as you’ve been pretty thoroughly roped up already, I’d highly recommend you surrender peacefully so we can give you as due a process of the law as you deserve.”

“Ha!  If there’s anything Jupiter Spies are known for - I mean, beyond the whole shapeshifting espionage thing, y’know, hard to ignore that - it is never surrendering!” the Spy declared.

Sadie helped herself to a swig of whiskey from her flask in the pause that followed.

“Still a bit roped up, huh,” Cactoid Jim said.

“Yep!  Kinda makin’ it hard to, y’know, not surrender.”  The Spy sighed deeply.  “Ohhh… fine.  Take me in or whatever, I’ll just, like, make my escape later, and you’ll never see it coming!”

“Just move along this way, Jib Janeen,” said Cactoid Jim, and he lifted his wrist to speak into a device of some sort.  “USSA, this is Cactoid Jim, Mayor of Earth.  I have apprehended the suspect and have him in custody.”

“Roger that, Jim, we’ll get him beamed up in a jiffy,” the device replied.

“Now, if you’ll just step over her, Jib, you’ll be taken into custody by the fine folks of the USSA.”  Cactoid Jim motioned with his arm, and the Spy followed.  “And I give you my word as Mayor of Earth that you’ll have as smooth a ride as possible for your cooperation.”

“Aww, thanks, guy!” the Spy said.  “I’ll remember that when I escape from your inferior Earth-based prison unit.  Send you, like, a letter or something.”   He tilted his head a few times at a song he could apparently hear.  “That foolish Earthling Cactoid Jim…”

A moment later, he was gone in a flurry of sound and lasers.

“Well, now that that’s taken care of.”  Cactoid Jim brushed off his pants and turned to address Sadie. “I can assume you’re the one that did the rope-job on the Jupiter Spy?”

“If you mean I tied him up, then, yes,” Sadie said.

“Nice work, there.  Was that shibari you used?”

“Shuh-berry,” Sadie corrected.

“Ah, sorry ‘bout that.  My Japanese is a little rusty.”  Cactoid Jim scratched the back of his head. “Now, I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself.  Cactoid Jim, Mayor of Earth.”

“I was unaware that Earth had a Mayor,” Sadie said.

“Easy mistake to make, ma’am,” Jim replied.  “And you must be Sadie Doyle.  Saw you headlining on the Society Pages once or twice.”

“I tend to do that, yes,” Sadie said.

“Now, I’m terribly sorry about what happened to your husband, you must have been worried sick about him.”

“Oh, not terribly,” Sadie said.  “Frank’s the one that’ll be out of sorts, the poor dear.  He’s never been frozen before.”

“It’s not the most pleasant experience.  I can attest to that personally,” Jim said.  “Fortunately, the good folks at the USSA were able to get him unfrozen, and he’s been staying with some good friends of mine until we got in contact with you.”

“Well, then, let’s do get going,” Sadie said.  “At this rate, Frank will almost be completely sober, and I do not want him to suffer like that.”

“Whatever you say, ma’am.”  He offered his arm, but Sadie declined with a flip of the hand.

“I do not need any assistance teleporting, thank you,” she said.

A few brief seconds later, Sadie found herself in a garishly red sort of place, in front of a shabbishly wooden sort of building.

“Well, here we are, Marshall Nevada’s Marshall Station,” Jim said.  “Your husband’ll be just inside, Mrs. Doyle.”

“I should hope so,” Sadie said.

The doors slid open with a plastic whooshing noise, and a cool female voice declared, “The Marshal Station doors are open.”

“Hello there, Marshall Nevada.  I’m here with Mr. Doyle’s wife,” Jim said.

The man who was apparently the Marshall adjusted his cowboy hat appraisingly.  “S’about time, Jim.  We had to move Croach outside on account of the frozen-guy had so much alcohol on his breath he felt his nanotech was in danger-a breaking again.”

“Now that is a delicate situation,” Jim said.  “Very kind of you to do that, Marshall.”

“Yeah, well, onus stuff too, so,” the Marshall replied.

“Ahem.  So where is my darling Frank?” Sadie said.

“In here, my love!”

Frank looked utterly ruffled, sitting in a jail cell, his hair all out of sorts, and his mustache even more-so.

“Oh, Frank!”  Sadie ran up to the bars of the cell, and pressed herself against them.  “You poor dear!  Are you all right?”

“I have been better!” Frank said.  “And I also have been drunker!  Far drunker!”

“Oh, my poor, poor Frankensteen,” Sadie said.  “I wish I could join you in there and drown your sorrow for you.”

“Uh, I could also open the door for you, ma’am,” the Marshall said.

“Oh, yes, that sounds like a much better idea!” Sadie said.

The door of the cell creaked open, and Frank and Sadie rushed for each other - well, for the flasks in Sadie’s purse in Frank’s case, as well.

“Sadie!  Are you truly so desperate as to bring me…”  Frank shuddered.  “Wine?!”

“Heavens, no!” Sadie said.  “That was just for the little purple fellow that was impersonating you just now.”  She took it out of her purse, put it on the ground, and kicked it behind her, where it rolled away and against a wall.  “This is for you.  Best Kept Secret.  I thought we ought to open it up.”

“Ah!  Moonshine!  How appropriate for such a depressing little room!” Frank said.

The Marshall, meanwhile, picked up the rolling bottle of wine, and squinted, not quite confused, not quite insulted, but entirely Whatever.

“Here you are, darling, drink it all down,” Sadie said, and she handed him the flask.

Frank took to it eagerly, and wiped his mouth off satisfactorily as he finished it seconds later.  “Sadie, you are and ever will be my guardian angel.”

“Only so long as you’re my little devil, Frank,” Sadie replied, and they clinked flasks.  It made a bit of an odd sound, but it would do until they both had their proper martinis in hand.

“Well, seeing as you two are now reunited, let’s get you back to Earth,” Jim said.

“Yes, let’s do that,” Frank said.  “I would love nothing more than to get off of this planet and into a bottle of some variety.”

“Won’t take but a moment, Mr. and Mrs. Doyle,” Jim said.  “Thanks again for the help, Marshall.  You give my best to Red.”

“Yeah, all right,” the Marshall replied.

Moments later, the Doyles were back in their penthouse suite, where all the liquor was wonderfully untouched and just as plentiful as ever.  “Terribly sorry for the inconvenience, you two,” Jim said. “If there’s anything I can do to make up for it, you just holler.”

“Yes, well, the first thing you can do is leave us be, and the last thing you can do is close the door well shut behind you,” Frank said, reaching for one of the many bottles of gin.  “Goodbye!”

“Frank, be polite,” Sadie said.  Frank just shrugged and reached for the martini shaker.  “You’ve been an utter dear, Mister… Cactuar or something-or-other.  Shall I make you a drink before you go?”

“I’ll have to decline, ma’am.  Can’t drink on the job,” Jim replied.

“That’s the only time to drink, my man,” Frank said, and he began shaking the martini glass.

“Well, we shall agree to disagree, I’m afraid.”  Cactoid Jim mimed tipping his hat.  “Y’all have a good evening, now.”

And as suddenly as he had appeared, Cactoid Jim was gone.

“Well!  Let us never do that again!” Frank said.  He’d poured two martinis, olives already floating serenely upon their iced surfaces.  “Here you are, my love.  A reward for saving me.”

“Oh, Frank.  And you shall have a reward for rewarding me,” Sadie replied.  “To us?”

“To us,” Frank replied, and with the clink of their glasses, all order was restored to the world.

At least until the next adventure, anyways.

 

 

 


End file.
